


Eyes

by Kitt_Monroe



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: (As In a Singular Suggestive Theme), Ambiguously Trans Character, Dialogue Light, Gen, Spoilers for Chapters 1 and 2, Suggestive Theme, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitt_Monroe/pseuds/Kitt_Monroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment he opened them, Mondo knew that no amount of biker badassery was going to get him out of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes

Opening his eyes in that moment was probably the worst decision Mondo Oowada ever made in his life.

Well, okay, not "opening his eyes..." What's the word?

Oh, that's right. Existing. _Existing_ in that moment was the worst decision he ever made in his life.

Because, you see, existing meant he had to remain there in the changing room for those couple of minutes as his consciousness came back to him--well, maybe not his consciousness, because he wasn't sure he actually passed out. Probably just his sense of reality and his ability to perceive it. But that phrase was too long, so consciousness should work fine.

Anyway, the problem was, existing meant that Oowada had to stay in the changing room while he returned to reality and discovered that his situation was the most fucked situation he had ever found himself in. Opening his eyes was just one part of that existing issue, but it was probably the worst part of existing at that moment, because opening his eyes caused him to see something he could only describe as his handiwork.

Chihiro Fujisaki lay on the floor, lifeless, bleeding, pale. And worst of all, with her eyes open.

With _his_ eyes open.

...Okay, he was going to have to resolve some other time how he would refer to that kid. Shit, he meant that _girl._ This already wasn't going well.

For the briefest, most immeasurable instant, on the top of the list of reasons he wished he hadn't just killed Fujisaki was that he'd never gotten around to asking the Super High-school Level Hacker what gender they actually were. (Of course, at the end of that brief instant, the top of the list of reasons he wished he hadn't just killed Fujisaki began to fluctuate between "Fujisaki is one of my best friends at this school, why would I do that" and "Jesus motherfucking Christ I just killed Fujisaki.")

So any attempt at using pronouns was going to be a bitch from here on out, but he supposed it would make more sense to call Fujisaki a boy... Except fuck no, that would tell his classmates that he _knew_ Fujisaki was a boy, and then it would be all over.

Okay, now the _new_ top of the list of reasons was that he was just realizing he was going to have to do something to avoid being found out. Except that he knew he didn't deserve that, didn't deserve to go free for this, because Fujisaki was dead and it was his fault and oh good Lord he was starting to smell blood.

Plus, those wide open eyes were starting to freak him out. They had kind of glossed over at this point, and they stared sightlessly at the ceiling, beautiful and brown and belonging to a dead person.

Oowada had to steady himself against a wall in order to not collapse and pass out for real. He cycled quickly through a list of possibilities, ways he could get out of being discovered as the unsalvageable shit who had murdered literally the least provocative and probably the most lovable person in the entire school. A few ideas came to mind--hide the body, formulate an alibi, whack himself with the same dumbbell and just skip the humiliation of the trial altogether--but every constructive thought came with about four repetitions of something along the lines of "don't have killed Fujisaki you incredible asshole."

That reminded him, he was still holding the goddamn dumbbell. He dropped it instantly upon realizing that, like it were a diseased animal he had to get away from as soon as possible. He wished he were able to drop his own existence in a similar fashion, but he was a little more unchangeably attached to that.

He closed his eyes tightly and began to get a headache. The headache made it hard to think, and he closed his eyes even tighter as if that would assuage the throbbing pain.

But when he opened his eyes, Fujisaki's eyes were still open. Unblinking, motionless, stuck in a moment in time when Fujisaki may have realized for as much as a half a second that a dumbbell was about to make lethal contact with his skull.

Maybe, though, the hacker hadn't even figured it out before Oowada struck him. That would almost be better, Oowada decided. If he could convince himself that Fujisaki had died not knowing he was about to die...that would make Oowada feel just slightly less sick to his stomach.

The world began to appear fuzzy as several different epiphanies came to him at once: it wouldn't be long now, before Night Time ended and the others found out Fujisaki was dead; it wouldn't be long before, subsequently, they had to have a trial to figure out who had murdered the poor kid; and Oowada was going to have to contend, before too much time had passed, with the fact that either he was going to be executed for this piece of shit move, or everybody else was going to be executed for his crime.

Crime. The word rang in Oowada's head, sounding like the color black (if that was possible) and stabbing at his thoughts, not allowing him to think about anything else. He was a criminal. He had just killed someone for no reason, and there was no way he could avoid anyone else knowing. This wasn't like with Daiya, when he could pretend it had nothing to do with him. This was an actual murder, and he was responsible for it and now he really _was_ collapsing.

It took all the effort he was capable of summoning not to slip into unconsciousness at that moment, and once he was certain he wasn't going to fall to his knees again, he stood and once again took to staring at the diminishing, unmoving figure in front of him.

There was a moment in which Oowada quit being concerned about covering up his crime, or the horror he was still busy bathing in over the fact that he was a murderer. For a moment, the worst part of it was the realization that Fujisaki had just told him _literally_ the deepest secret he possessed. The hacker had confided in Oowada with the biggest, most significant thing about him, and how the hell had Oowada responded? He had hit him over the head because he was such a goddamn baby he couldn't deal with his own secret.

If he could see into the future at any given moment, and he could choose between keeping Daiya's death a secret and keeping Fujisaki alive, there was no way there was anything even resembling a contest. He gazed down at Fujisaki's wide, unseeing eyes, and a singular thought pervaded his mind: he shouldn't be dead. That kid shouldn't be dead right now, and Oowada knew that.

He wondered if it had hurt. Even if it had probably been a tiny fraction of a second before Fujisaki died, Oowada couldn't help wondering if the Super High-school Level Hacker had been in pain during that tiny fraction. That made him sick to his stomach again, so he decided not to think about that so much anymore.

He realized he was trembling and began to ponder practical methods of removing himself from this plane of existence. Mondo Oowada did not tremble, he told himself--Mondo Oowada was far too fucking badass to do anything of the sort, and yet he was. He was shaking like a chihuahua, which comparison he mostly came up with because that was his least favorite kind of dog.

That didn't, of course, mean he _disliked_ chihuahuas because after all dogs are _awesome._

Anyway, he was shaking. And he didn't really know if there was an off switch for that kind of thing. He did a little experiment to see if it was possible to make oneself _stop_ trembling and concluded empirically that it is not possible to steady one's trembling by biting one's own arm.

A few seconds after this experiment, he had perhaps the single most important epiphany of this entire, dreadful experience: he had made a promise. A man's promise, he suddenly realized--since after all Fujisaki was (?) a man (???) (?????). Fujisaki's sweet, soothing, careful voice, poison to his ears now that _this thing_ had happened, echoed in his mind as he remembered what he had promised the kid just before killing him (his stomach lurched at that phrase):

"Um, Oowada-kun, i-if it's okay with you, can I just ask you one favor?" Fujisaki had requested...probably not even six minutes ago yet. His face at the time had taken on that needlessly adorable puppy dog face that Oowada was pretty positive Fujisaki had trademarked.

Oowada couldn't stop picturing that face. So very much _alive,_ cheeks rosy, eyes shining but not glossy. That almost insultingly pretty face that no one, not even Oowada, could resist smiling at.

"Sure, whaddaya need?" Oowada had prompted at the time. He remembered being confused when Fujisaki had asked for a favor, because they had actually just finished discussing what kind of a training regimen might be good for someone as improbably unmuscular as Fujisaki. He had been confused because it seemed like they had been about to start training when suddenly the hacker tacked on the whole "can I ask you a favor" thing.

"If I tell you a secret..." Fujisaki had trailed off at the time, his face darkening as he possibly wondered whether he should really say it. "Um, d-do you promise not to tell anyone else? P-please?"

Oowada should have known, just from that wording, that it would be something as astonishing as it was. You don't ask somebody not to tell your secret when your secret is that you write a gardening blog or something. You ask somebody not to tell when your secret is something big, like ~~you killed your own brother and are basically a horrible human being~~ you just so happen to be a boy.

But being the dumbass he is, he accepted the request. Sure he wouldn't tell Fujisaki's secret, that's what friends are for, right? Oowada had promised not to let anybody know the obviously important thing Fujisaki was going to tell him. What he _hadn't_ promised was that he was going to clobber the kid to death moments later, but somehow Fujisaki had gotten both of those things and Oowada was now expending a great deal of effort not to involuntarily retch.

So now he had an issue. Like, an immediate, this-is-going-to-become-a-problem-in-a-matter-of-hours-what-am-I-going-to-do issue. Once they found out Fujisaki was dead, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist (a Super High-school Level Rocket Scientist, if you will) to notice that it was _Fujisaki_ lying here dead in the _boys'_ changing room. Somebody would probably end up feeling Fujisaki up or something to confirm their suspicions, and the secret would be out.

...He shuddered briefly as a really random thought came to his mind: he really hoped the person tasked with determining Fujisaki's sex wasn't Yamada. That really would just be the icing on the cake right there. But anyway.

He needed a way to prevent them knowing, at least for as long as he could. He had promised Fujisaki the others wouldn't find out, and damnit, he was going to keep that promise, no matter how much of a murderous failure at all things he was.

He wondered for a minute on how exactly he was going to keep the secret. It's not like he could just make Fujisaki _not_ be in the boys' changing room.

...Which, he realized a second later, was literally the stupidest thing he had ever thought. Of _course_ he could make Fujisaki not be in the boys' changing room; because there was a very close and very serviceable _girls'_ changing room right next door.

It was perfect! The next time one of the girls went to use their changing room, there would be Fujisaki, looking as feminine as ever _and_ in the appropriate room. They wouldn't even think twice about checking the kid's body.

There was a terrifyingly amusing moment in which Oowada was glad Fujisaki was wearing a skirt, because otherwise, if the kid had happened to be aroused for some reason then it would be painfully obvious. Then he bit his own arm again for thinking such a dumbshit weird thing about his dead friend.

So he would just drag Fujisaki out of the boys' room and into the girls' room, making sure no one noticed him. There was a really short moment in which he was grateful that Fujisaki was so small and light, followed by a moment of horror as he remembered that wanting to be stronger was the exact reason Fujisaki had consulted him here.

He wondered if this was how Kuwata had felt the entire time after killing Maizono. Had every thought that came to the baseball star's head reminded him of the tragic thing he had just done? Had he even once had an original idea without the train of thought leading back to "oh my God I just killed a woman?" If this was how it was going to feel for the rest of his life, he wasn't certain he _wanted_ to escape being convicted at the trial.

Except for the whole execution thing. That was going to suck, he was pretty sure. It had certainly looked brutal (to understate it fantastically) when it happened to Kuwata, and Oowada couldn't help thinking he could do without some kind of similarly tragically ironic punishment. There would probably be motorcycles involved. Oowada shivered to think about it.

As he focused again on Fujisaki's limp body, something irritating occurred to him. Fujisaki wasn't the only thing (which was a horrible word to use but it made sense in context) he would have to move if he wanted to convince everyone the kid was a chick. The rug, laid out to provide a soft padding for trainers to stand or lie on while exercising, now had a good deal of blood on it from Fujisaki's head; and the poster of the big-boobed model chick on the wall now had some blood on it too. Oowada was a little puzzled as to how blood had flown that far, but this wasn't the time to stand around and ponder physics. Since cleaning the rug or the poster probably wasn't an option, he'd have to move that shit too.

As soon as he took down the poster, however, he realized there was a very important obstacle he hadn't considered: actually _getting into_ the girls' room. He didn't have an ID for that...

And then he remembered how he'd gotten the ID he had now--by stealing it. He'd sort of broken his own ID in the misguided but ultimately productive let's-see-who-can-stand-the-sauna-heat-for-longer-without-dying-of-dehydration competition thing he'd partaken of with Ishimaru, that had resulted in them becoming friends and sweet baby Jesus fuck why hadn't he thought about _that??_

How was he going to explain this to Ishimaru?! The Super High-school Level Hall Monitor was not exactly the kind of guy who had millions of friends; Oowada wouldn't put it past his new best friend for Oowada to be the first friend Ishimaru had _ever_ had. What was Ishimaru going to think when he found out what Oowada had done? There was no way he was going to take that well, and there was literally nothing Oowada could do about it.

Oowada took a few seconds to curse society for not having invented time travel yet so he could go back and not do this piece of shit thing he had done.

Except right now, he needed to calm down (naturally, he launched a fist at the wall to accomplish this, for once glad that Monobear had sturdied this building beyond any possibility for damage). He needed to proceed with his plan to disguise Fujisaki's sex as quickly and carefully as possible, before someone came along and saw the scene and put two and two together.

Oowada wasn't sure anymore whether he was more terrified of someone coming in and finding out he had killed Fujisaki, or finding out Fujisaki was a dude.

He realized for the second time that he needed to stop mentally referring to Fujisaki as a guy, or else he would start doing it for real in front of everyone else. But he somehow couldn't make himself think of the hacker as a girl anymore...

But he had to stop fixating on that for now. The point was, he had a way to get into the girls' changing room. All he had to do was pick up the ElectroID of one of the girls who had already kicked it--Maizono or Enoshima, it didn't really matter which of their cards he lifted--and use that to get in. After all, he'd been able to pull off the same trick before, exchanging Kuwata's card for his own nonfunctional one so he would actually _have_ an ID to use. There was no reason, he figured, that he couldn't do the same to get Fujisaki into the changing room.

He guessed the only problem was that Fujisaki still had his own card, which no doubt listed his sex as male. Oowada would probably have to get rid of the hacker's ID to make sure none of the others happened to check it for clues.

God, this whole cover-up thing was a pain in the ass. But it was worth it, if there was any chance at all he could keep his promise.

After he'd rolled up the rug, he steeled himself to pick up Fujisaki's small, soft figure, unable to stop himself from making comparisons to that night when he'd cradled his own brother's body--unable to stop himself from thinking how similar this situation was, as if there was some quality about Oowada himself that somehow caused people to die because of him. He closed his eyes tightly again, trying to block out from his mind the fact that he was carrying another human body, wishing he could resign from his own existence and not have to deal with what he was doing, what he had done.

The process of exchanging the two rugs and the two posters felt almost mechanic to Oowada, like it wasn't actually him doing the labor but actually another force controlling his actions. He came around to accepting that there was probably no way he was going to escape being found out as the killer, not if Naegi and Kirigiri's detective games were as goddamn on point at the next trial as they had been the first time. He figured he should probably just turn himself in, make it official. That would, he noted, make an investigation unnecessary, meaning they would never find out Fujisaki was a boy.

But when he thought about how that kind of a conversation would go, his stomach lurched. What would he even tell them?

_Hey guys, I know you don't really want to be hearing this right know but Fujisaki's dead and I killed her._

_Do with that what you will._

His throat tightened as he imagined what they would say, what they would do if he told them that. There would be no justification he could provide to let them know that he was as horrified about it as they were. He couldn't help thinking the kinds of things they would say. Criminal. Murderer. How could you. What is the matter with you, Oowada.

Brother, I trusted you.

He couldn't do it. No matter how much he knew it was the right thing to do, that he should just end it now and have it over with, he couldn't make himself tell them. He would just have to settle for their resident super sleuths to figure it all out, and then he could give in.

He laid Fujisaki down on the rug, now in the girls' changing room, spending a few seconds to straighten out his body, give him just a little bit of dignity. Oowada knew there was no sense in trying to bestow a stylistic death pose on someone he himself had murdered, but it was sort of important to him to know that Fujisaki at least _looked_ like he had died well. The Super High-school Level Hacker's eyes stared up into his own, unblinking, nothing like the "windows to the soul" people always said eyes were supposed to be.

And then Oowada scrammed the fuck out of the changing room, mentally checking "move the kid's body" off his new to-do list (which also included sauna-ing Fujisaki's ID and returning Maizono's to the weird little cubby thing in the entrance hall).

A moment of paranoia struck him as he thought he saw Togami's frame in the very corner of his vision when he left the training rooms, but when he turned, he saw no one there. He figured he would probably be feeling this paranoid for some time to come. Leaning against the wall in the hallway, he shut his eyes, trying to clear his mind, trying to clear away the events of the last half hour or so from his brain, if only for just a minute.

But it didn't matter how tightly he closed his eyes. He knew that when he opened them again, Fujisaki would still be in the changing room, and his eyes would still be wide open.

Chihiro Fujisaki's eyes were never going to close again.

**Author's Note:**

> More like, Kitt plays "How Sympathetic Can I Make a Murderer Without Excusing Their Actions" a fun game for the whole family. Anyway, I had to take a lot of liberties with Fujisaki's gender, I hope nobody was offended! Also please tell me if I should tag this with any other stuff, and thank you for reading.


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